Over A Barrel Alternative Ending
by Parker-Star
Summary: An alternate ending to 5x13 where Joan gets shot by Jack Brunelle. First Ever Fic so please be kind!
1. chapter 1

**HI! This is my first ever fic so please be reasonable!**

 **I've done it as an alternative ending to ep 5x14 'over a barrel'.**

 **There's some Joan Whump and possibly some Joanlock if you squint!**

 **Enjoy!**

'Hey, you're on speaker'

Watson's tone was low, she knew that Sherlock didn't have enough time, but she didn't know the consequences it would face.

'Watson, are you unharmed?' Sherlock blurted only seconds after Joan had spoken.

'Yeah, I'm fine'

Lying was the easiest option. She just wanted to scream 'SHERLOCK GET ME OUT THIS IS TORTURE' but knew that would benefit neither of them in the situation.

A long pause happened before Sherlock spoke a statement Joan already knew was coming.

'I need more time. 4 hours at tops! We've almost finished the case, we are so close! It's just... finding evidence and tracking down leads takes more time that you've given.'

Sherlock voice was exhausted, all he could think of was getting Joan home safe but he had to cloud his thoughts with the solving this case in time. He knew that the situation would get worse when he stated to Mr Brunelle that he needed more time.

The silence of the call was interrupted by a hand slamming down on the table, so forceful it actually made Joan jump (even though Sherlock didn't see it).

'You had time Mr Holmes. So so so much time' Jacks irritated voice crescendoed down the line as Sherlock heard the click of a bullet being armed into a rifle. It killed him not being able to witness what was going on, not being able to see if Joan was safe or if something had happened but as soon as that click went his mind went into overdrive, his heart started racing and his voice wouldn't stop reasoning.

Joan slowly moved backwards with the movement of the gun listening to Sherlock's frantic voice over the phone line. Although she could not hear what he was saying, as his speech had got so fast she couldn't understand, she could hear the worried tone again. Without question she stood in front of the gun protecting the hostages behind her knowing that it was unlikely that he would shoot her without reasoning first.

'Please Jack, you don't want to do this. Let everyone else go, even keep me for the extra time just please, let these innocent people go!'

'I think I know just how to motivate Mr Holmes to work faster'


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2!**

 **I hope you enjoy this story, and I'm really enjoying writing this! Please be reasonable with comments but reviews are great! I dunno how many chapters I'm gonna do but hopefully I'll do about 4 or 5!**

 **Thank you!**

Fear struck Joan as she knew what was about to happen. Before she could blink the sound of a shot rung in her ears and a pain was radiating through her body, specifically somewhere round by her abdomen. Her vision went spotted as she fell backwards hitting the floor hard enough to make her squeal in pain. Rapidly blinking, she adjusted to her surrounding, listening to the frantic worries of Sherlock through the phone until her eyes focused on Jack. He seemed unmoved about what had happened as he walked to the phone. Showing no emotion he quietly said 'The clock is ticking Mr Holmes, you have about an hour until you partner dies from blood loss. I'll try my best to make sure she doesn't die until you turn up.'

He turned from the phone, picked up a handful of napkins and threw them at Joan.

'Stay alive long enough for him to solve this, we can't deal with you dying and him not having any motivation can we now?'

'I'll try my best' Joan whispered supporting a sarcastic smile. Blood was slowly seeping out of the small wound and with no medical attention Joan knew she was probably going to get and infection which could end up fatal. Shaking of the thoughts she slowly sat up resting against one of the dining room booths. Her eyes scanned the worried and scared faces of the hostages in the room and padded her wound with napkins, she turned to a young man and asked for his help.

'Hey would you mind helping me up'

'I don't think you should be moving round with a wound like that, can't it be dangerous?'

'No I'll be okay, I have about 30 mins until I become completely useless, but I could help and make tea for everyone'

She gave the man a kind look and he complemented her with a small nod and helped her get up.

Sherlock was furious. Judging by the size of the gun he saw when he entered the diner Joan had about 30-40 minutes before she would die from blood loss. His mind was clouded by the traumatising thoughts of his partner, no his friend, in pain. Angrily, he lobbed his phone at the wall and kicked a chair over in despair. As Marcus came running in he knew that the look on Sherlocks face was bad.

'We have 30 minutes before my partner dies from blood loss so I suggest we get moving' Sherlock said whilst running out the door and straight onto a desk full of papers. He had to do this quick, he had to save Joan.

Gregson received the text all most immediately after Marcus watched Sherlock storm out the room.

 ** _Watson is down, find a way to take Jack Brunelle down now. Sherlock hasn't got enough time. -M_**

His eyes were fixated on the text. He had been standing outside for more than 2 hours hoping that good news would be received from Marcus. He dragged his eyes away from the text and furiously searched for a way to take Brunelle down. His eyes scanned over the small diner until he came across a small opening where a curtain had fallen down. Running to the operations manager he nearly shouted the words 'get a sniper on that roof and aim for the gap in the curtain. If he moves you shoot, we are not being kind. He's taken down Watson so do whatever you can to get in there'

The operation had started. Snipers were on the roof, armed guards were surrounding the area. Now was the time to save Watson.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3!**

 **I think I'll do 2 more chapters after this. One from the hospital and one from recovery.**

 **Enjoy!**

15 minutes later.

Every 5 minutes Joan replaced her bloodied napkins and pushed on her wound trying to stop the blood flow. Every 5 minutes she checked her phone for some sort of contact that Sherlock would send to her. Every 5 minutes her vision would get worse and her head got stuffier. She hadn't moved much only to get tissues and check on the hostages but the slightest movement caused her so much pain she felt like she wanted to cry. Feeling more and more uncomfortable by the second she decided to lie against the heat of the oven clutching her phone tightly. Jack noticed her movement and stared her down until she reached the cold tiles.

'Why aren't there any phone calls. Why isn't there any contact?!' He shouted, getting more aggravated by the second. He moved to Watson, picking up her phone and focusing on her eyes. Every time he spoke it felt like Watson was underwater. Her eyes were begging to shut and all she wanted to do was sleep but she couldn't leave the hostages, she had to stay awake to help them.

20 minutes later

Jack had become impatient. He moved towards the hostages like a stalking predator picking out his prey. Watson saw this, struggled to her feet and tried to reason with him.

'No jack, don't do this' she rasped out. 'It's not worth it, killing someone is not going to bring your son back. You can't leave these people without a member of their family, you know how it feels. You can't put that pain on someone else' Her pain was excruciating, standing was one of the biggest struggles she's ever faced. Clinging onto a chair was her only option before black spots invaded her vision and she fell backwards.

Whilst Watson was speaking she and Jack hadn't noticed that he was slowly moving into the line of a sniper. Gregson got the message and was told that a strike would happen in less that 2 minutes. In the 2 minutes he had, he called Sherlock and Marcus and told them to get there as fast as they could. He could hear the anger and shock in Sherlocks voice. His anger that he failed, he failed at solving the case and had lost. His shock that they were about to save his partner. Gregson knew that Sherlock would be there quickly as the station was very close. As soon as he hung up Sherlock was there. Hands twitching with anticipation, face cold and angered and feet moving nervously. Just as he was about to speak he was interrupted by a shot that rang in his ears. He turned to that see Sherlock had disappeared, first one to be in the building.

As soon as Sherlock heard the shot he ran into the building, bypassing the armed police, bypassing the hostages, he ran straight to limp figure of his friend on the floor next to the oven.

'Joan, Joan can you hear me?' His voice was shaky and all he could focus on was the pool of blood increasing by Watsons side. This was good and bad though, good that she wasn't dead and that she still had blood being pumped around her body, bad that she was loosing a lot of blood. He could see her eyes were fluttering under the lids meaning she wasn't completely unconscious. All good signs.

'Sherlock.' Joan whispered.

'Joan, Joan speak to me. Stay awake please. Help will be here soon!' His soft accent was soothing her to sleep.

'Sherlock, I... I...' Joan's voice trailed off and the rise in her chest started to decrease. Just as Sherlock was about to loose hope he was pushed away from the paramedics. They attached wires and needles to her frail skin and he listened as the beep of the heart rate monitor was decreasing until he heard it flatline. Everything seemed to be in slow motion after that; the CPR, the defibrillator. It was only until Joan was lifted onto a stretcher and rushed into the ambulance when time seemed to speed up.

He had failed, and Joan was paying the price.


	4. Chapter 4

**I think I'll do 1 more chapter, 2 if I'm feeling generous. I really wanted to capture both Sherlock and Joan's relationship but I think I'll do that more in the next chapter!**

 **Again thank you for reading! :)**

He was completely silent in the ambulance, eyes fixated on Joan's limp figure. Not once did he let go of her hand until they reached the hospital and she was rushed into theatre. Then he just stood there, people passed him, even tried to engage in conversation, but he just stood there. Frozen.

Gregson and Bell had rushed to the hospital as soon as they saw the ambulance race off, obviously worried for Joan but also concerned for how Sherlock would cope. Even before entering the reception they paused and could see Sherlocks figure stood by a wall, completely still.

'He's not doing well, this is gonna be difficult' Bell whispered to Gregson as they proceeded to Sherlock.

'Hey Sherlock, you wanna sit down?'

No reply.

'Sherlock,mate, sit down you've been through some crap' Marcus nudged Sherlock to sit down, getting a small sigh from the man he felt accomplished and decided to sit next to him.

Hours of silence passed until a doctor walked up to the 3 men.

'Friends of Miss Watson?'

'Yes'

'Well, She's had a rough couple of hours in surgery, she had to be resuscitated twice and her wound had got infected, but she's stable and hopefully she'll be out of the deep end in the next couple of hours. She's under heavy pain killers and won't be awake until tomorrow so we suggest having only one visitor'

They all nodded and just as the doctor was about to walk away Sherlock spoke.

'How long?'

'I'm sorry what?' A confused expression rose on the doctors face.

'How long did her heart stop beating?' Sherlocks tone was wobbly, as all the emotion rose at once in his voice.

'Well Sir, erm, the longest she was gone for was approximately, erm, 14 minutes. But she is fine now! And oh if you want to see her she will be in room 347.'

Sherlock walked off, head hanging from the weight of guilt, feet moving from the push of anxiety. If he would have solved the case quicker, or even took on the case then Watson wouldn't have died for 18 minutes. 18 minutes. The two words revolved around his mind like a carousel. Dead for 18 minutes. Two more minutes and they would have given up. Sherlock knew he had to stay strong for Watson, but knowing he could have prevented this made it all the more worse.

'345, 345, ah 347' Sherlock stopped so quick, it had almost been like a brick wall was in front of him. Taking a deep breath he quietly opened the door to see the figure of his Joan on an overly large hospital bed. She looked so tiny, her face was constricted by a breathing tube, her arm was laced with wires and drips, her finger was being stabbed by a heart monitor. Drips, monitors, pumps filled the room but in the middle of it all was his small friend.

Taking a seat his eyes darted up and down her body, deducing only the worst about her condition, and he took her hand.

'I'm sorry, if it weren't for me this never would have happened. You deserve so much more than this Joan. Oh lovely Joan you deserve so so much better.'

Voice beginning to break with sadness he stopped himself from rambling about his feelings. He loved Joan, like a friend would, but he didn't know if his feelings were romantic and preferably didn't want to find out today. Sherlock sat back in his chair ready for a day of waiting.

PING

Startled by the sound of his text tone, Sherlock dragged his phone out his pocked to read: 'Me and Gregson have gone back to work on the case, stay with Joan and keep us updated'-MB

He'd been at the hospital for exactly 4 hours and 45 minutes. No sign of Watson stirring in her sleep or waking made him wonder if staying up incase she woke was worth it. Sherlock settled for a so called quick nap on the oversized chair. A quick nap that turned into a overnight stay.

Light was piercing Joan's eyelids as she slowly pulled them open, using almost all of the force she had left in her body. She felt physically and mentally drained and it didn't help that her side was in agonising pain. Looking around she saw medical instruments dotted around the room, until she saw a sleeping figure in a chair which was pushed rather closely to her bed. Smiling at the thought that he had probably been there all night she sank her heed back into the pillow and tried to process what had happened. Just as she was doing so she saw that Sherlock had noticed she was awake. His eyes were full of relief and even a small smile pierced his lips.

'Watson, I just wanted to...'

'Sherlock don't. Don't blame yourself, this is as much my fault as yours. We both ignored Jack for so long and even I knew that the time restriction he gave you was steep'

'I know I just feel partly responsible. I could have lost you Joan. Hell, I did loose you. You died for 18 minutes at one point. I could have stopped that. What if you didn't wake up? I don't think I couldn't imagine a life without you...'

'All that matters is that I'm here now, it was really scary Sherlock, but I promise I'm not going to leave you anytime soon'

They both smiled at each other, hand in hand they were content until a nurse came in, spoke about Watsons condition and abruptly left. She had about 3 more days left until she was able to leave and go back the the brownstone.

It was going to be a long 3 days but all the mattered was that Joan was safe, and she wasn't going anywhere.


	5. Chapter 5

**One more chapter left!**

 **This is mainly fluf between Sherlock and Joan but I wanted to again write to their relationship.**

 **Thank for reading again! :)**

It took 2 days of Joan drifting in and out of consciousness for her to be moved out of intensive care and told she can go home whenever she felt ready. Sherlock, obviously, was very skeptical at the thought of Joan going home so early. He knew the risk of infection would grow (especially in the brownstone conditions) but he also felt like he could look after Joan better at there usual home.

Knowing the risk of infection was okay for Joan, she knew how to look after herself and hated the smell and look of hospitals, it bought back too many memories, memories which she didn't want resurfacing any time soon. To be back in her own bed, her own clothes would benefit her completely. It also didn't help that Sherlock was fidgeting every 5 minutes, spouting random facts, but weird of all he was actually being very caring towards her. Joan knew he was worried but she'd never seen him be so gentle. With all things considered she lay her head into a pillow and hopefully braced her last night in hospital.

When Joan woke she slowly lifted herself up to a sitting position, wincing in pain she woke to again see Sherlock sleeping under a pile of papers. In a way she was glad Sherlock didn't see her pain because he would insist that she stayed in hospital, saying that she shouldn't be in as much pain as she is in, saying she's probably got an infection, saying she's stupid. All the things he would say floated around her mind but all she wanted to do was leave.

Hours later she had signed release papers, collected medication and had caught a taxi with a slightly annoyed Sherlock.

'You do know that by going to the Brownstone it is increasing the chance of a worse infection, and I'm saying worse because judging by the way you've been leaning against you injury and the small winces of pain I've been hearing, your obviously in pain'

'Sherlock please, I can look after myself at home and I know your worried but I'm fine'

'Erm, excuse me? Look after yourself? No no no, you are going to anything but look after yourself, I hope your glad to hear that I shall be looking after you Watson!' A small smile appeared on his face and before Watson could object the taxi pulled up by the Brownstone. Gently he manoeuvred Joan out the taxi, in the house and into her bed. He then ran down stairs grabbed a glass of water and a bell and ran upstairs placing them on her bedside table.

'Now Watson, you have medication, water and a bell. I will wake you up in exactly 2 hour 15 minutes but if you need me you also have a bell which you may ring. My services are your disposal my dear.' Then Sherlock proceeded to walk out the room.

'erm Sherlock?' Joan asked, seeming quiet uneasy.

'Yes?'

'You know you don't have to do this, right?'

'Well, I sort of feel like I must and anyway you are my the closest person I have in this world, of course I'm going to look after you' His voice was gentle and sensitive however he could not look Joan in the eye. She had noticed this ever since she was in hospital. He wouldn't look her in the eye.

'But Sherlock, I just don't want you to feel guilty, this wasn't your fault, you couldn't help...'

'Joan, I completely ignored this man for years, then when he held hostages I allowed him to keep you, he gave me time to solve a case and I failed, that ended up in you being shot and dying for 18 minutes. In all honesty Joan I am mostly to blame. Now get some rest, see you in 2 hours.' And with a sad smile he left.

For 30 minutes Sherlock sat over the case he hadn't finished, examining every piece of information and finally coming to the conclusion. He could go catch the perp and deal with the straight away but he was completely worried about leaving Watson.

Fingers twitching all he could do was text Marcus the details and have him to do the dirty work. With that done there was nothing else left, he looked around in disbelief at how messy the house had become in the small absence of Joan and concluded that she would definitely not be happy with the state of the living room and the kitchen. Cultures were growing of dirty plates and papers were left lying on the floor along with a smashed desk and a broken table. Knowing it would make her happy Sherlock began to clean the mess until he heard movement upstairs. Hair stood on end and his brain went to overdrive. Who was there? Was Watson okay?

'Watson?, you okay up there?'

He then heard the sound of the shower being turned on and stormed up the stairs in anger.

Joan should even be out of bed let alone taking a shower, she was being far to risky for his liking.

'What the hell do you think your doing?'

'Riding a horse' Joan whispered sarcastically. Her body smelt like hospital and her hair felt greasy with blood and dirt covering her scalp. Her head felt fuzzy due to moving quickly of the bed and her side was in agonising pain.

She'd already taken her shirt and trousers off so the sight of Sherlock alarmed her abit. More alarming to Sherlock was the sight of blood seeping through Joan's bandages. It wasn't enough to be life threatening but still enough to make him run over to her and push her onto the closed toilet seat. Slowly taking the bandage off he inspected the wound.

'Shit, Joan you've pulled a couple of stitches and you've gone pail as a sheet, what the hell do you think you were doing?!'

'Sherlock get me a sterile needle and some stitching stuff from my med kit, I can patch it up myself'

'Joan dear, the fact you are calling it stitching stuff doesn't make me feel any more confident about you doing this'

Joan shot him a deadly look. He knew she was in pain so followed instructions and got everything she needed to give herself some stitches.

First to sterilise the area and needle. Then was the tricky bit, actually stitching herself up. Her arms ached as she stuck the needle through her flesh, eyes tearing up from the pain which shot through her body like an electric shock. Sherlock gently took her hand implying that he would finish the job. Concentrated on what to do he didn't notice that Joan had stared at him and started to stroke his hair the whole time.

'Now that's finished would you please go back to bed, I don't know what made you want to take a shower but I don't think it will help'

He gestured her to the door but she didn't move.

'I can still smell it. The hospital. I can feel blood in my hair. Every time I was in the hospital I could stop thinking about the past. I just want to wash it away from me. The smell, the taste. I just want it gone. Please help me Sherlock, I can't even lift my arm without being in pain.' Joan's eyes welled up with tears and she began to cry. Sat half naked on a toilet seat, covered in blood and all Sherlock could do was watch.

He inched his way up to her slowly and pulled her into a tight but gentle hug. Kissing her on the cheek he whispered 'let's get you cleaned up missy' and proceeded to hug her until she wrapped her frail arms round him. Time to be a doctor Mr Holmes, he thought to himself, time to be a friend.


End file.
